


Anger and Pride

by ticktockclockwork



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans Female Character, Trans!Suzanne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 13:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11624154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticktockclockwork/pseuds/ticktockclockwork
Summary: An exploration of Bitty’s character and how he deals with the anger he feels on behalf of his mother. A small Zimbits h/c oneshot au where Bitty’s mother Suzanne is trans and his home was a safe and open space for him growing up.





	Anger and Pride

**Author's Note:**

> This was my way of dealing with my own frustrations at the talking garbage fire that is the current US president. Bitty grew up in a loving home where he never had to hide being gay because he had parents who were more than understanding. I am not trans myself, though, so please let me know if I messed anything up.

Sometimes, the only thing Bitty could do to help with his pent up frustrations was to run. And not just a gentle jog outside, but a full stop sprint for as long as his legs, his lungs, and the treadmill would allow. He'd run with the music so loud he couldn't hear his own feet hit the belt and he'd only stop when he couldn't breathe. Everyone assumed he baked when he was mad, but that's what he did for stress.

For anger? For frustration?

Bitty ran.

Running hadn't always been therapeutic for him. For a time he'd only trained in it because it was good cardio and he wanted to be able to outrun anyone chasing him. It was a practical exercise, a two birds, one stone sort of deal. But then it morphed into an escapism he hadn't expected. He still ran with the boys or with Jack, outside, slow and steady for his heartrate. But if he was running in the gym he was running to wear himself out, to burn up or burn out.

He'd been running for forty five minutes when he heard Jack come into the room, the smallest of the three bedrooms in their home that they'd converted into a personal gym. He didn't interrupt him, which Bitty was grateful for, but he didn't approach either. He hung back just watching, and it stirred something more in Bitty, something small and ugly. Jack had exposed him, had come in to watch, and now that the spotlight was on, Bitty felt felt more ignited, felt fierce and vicious and just… angry.

It was being watched during a breakdown, when you're struggling with something for so long that the climax, the peak of that struggle suddenly sneaks up on you for an explosive end.

He wasn't mad at Jack, he was just mad. He wasn't angry that Jack was there, he was angry that he felt this way at all.

His fingers stabbed at the buttons to increase the speed and he felt rather than heard his feet slamming down harder on the belt, his gait widening, his muscles pulling. He saw sweat fall from his face, tasted it as it broke the seal of his lips. His tongue was cold and dry from how much air he was dragging in so rapidly.

When his lungs could take no more, and his legs no longer felt like his own, he grabbed and yanked on the emergency cord before jumping so his feet were on either side of the slowing belt. He gripped the bars with his eyes squeezed tight, trying to drag air into uncooperative lungs.

His knees began to buckle and he felt arms around his waist, catching him before he collapsed. When Jack pulled the screaming earbuds from his ears, Bitty could hear him whispering quietly, words repeated so fervently that they could almost be prayers.

“Breathe, shhhh, breathe I've got you Bits, it's okay, I've got you..” over and over until it was as loud in his head as the music had been.

“I’m - sorry -” He gasped between his words but felt Jack shake his head where he had it pressed against his temple.

“No, it's okay Eric. It's okay, I get it, just breathe.”

And Jack would get it. Because he did this too sometimes, when he felt at the end of his rope. He'd push his body, on the ice, in the gym, at practice. He'd push until he wore himself out or got over it. This wasn't new. He just usually wasn't around when Bitty had these kinds of breakdowns.

Jack eased Bitty back so they could collapse down against the wall, Jack with an arm still around Bitty, angled towards him to continue guiding his breathing through exercises long since familiar for them both. In, out, in, out. When Bitty no longer feel like he was drowning, he tipped and pressed his sweaty body against Jack's front, making a soft noise when Jack's fingers slid into his wet hair. He would get cold soon, from the crash in adrenaline and his soaked clothes, but for now he reveled in Jack's heat, his smell, his presence.

“What happened?” He asked when the silence had gone on long enough.

Bitty shook his head. He didn't have words in him anymore, all ability to talk zapped out of him now that he had peaked.

“Was it something I did?”

Bitty shook his head.

“Was it work?”

No and another shake.

Jack was quiet as he thought, patient when Bitty went nonverbal like this. “Was it something in the news?”

A nod.

Jack pulled out his phone then, scrolling through to try and figure it out. Bitty buried closer and wrapped his arms around Jack's middle. He could feel him stiffen when he saw what had caused Bitty so much grief. “Crisse… your mom..?”

“She's okay.” Bitty croaked, finding the words slowly. “I called her this morning.” He pulled himself up a little and tucked more of himself into the space Jack created. “She ain't a burden, Jack…”

“Bits…” Jack whispered, pulling him closer and closing his eyes. “You’re right, she isn't. No matter what that sack of shit says.”

“Coach was so mad. Said he was ashamed, ashamed of… of the way the country is so cruel to anyone who is different.” he sniffed loudly, the noise wet and ugly. “Wanted to punch someone I think. Would have if someone looked at him or mama wrong.”

Suzanne had transitioned years ago, when Bitty was only an infant, and though very few people in Madison had any idea, there was still the occasional moment where they got scared. It was dangerous living in the South but that was where Coach had been born and raised and where he'd fallen in love with Suzanne. It was their home, they'd made it that way.

It hadn't been kind to Bitty, who had been teased and bullied and abused by his classmates for being who he was, but his home had always been a safe space, made that way by his mother and father.

“She said she's okay, sticks and stones an’ all that but I think it did bother her. I just don't think she wants to show it… Coach does that enough for the both of 'em… but I just… I was so angry Jack. I was so angry I couldn't even think. I just… I needed…” he huffed and gripped his hair as he felt it all over again.

“I understand.” Jack murmured, coaxing his fingers from his happy and smoothing it out. After a beat, he asked quietly “... Do you want to go see her?”

Bitty hesitated but finally nodded and when he looked up his eyes were wet. “I do…”

Jack smiled, leaning down to rest their foreheads together. “Alright, mon cœur, I'll book us some flights tonight.” He promised, smoothing the bangs from Bitty’s brow.

“Thank you.” Bitty whispered, eyes wet again. It felt small, in comparison to some of the other hardships they'd faced, but Bitty wanted to be there for his mother, wanted her to know she was loved, to  _ tell her _ in person that she wasn't a burden. And to know Jack wanted to be there too was a warm relief, soothing the last of this moment’s anger and rage.

“Let's go take a shower, then we can call her again.” Jack suggested and Bitty agreed, standing with the other and allowing him to help them both to their bedroom. He knew he'd be angry again, knew he wouldn't stop being angry. But so long as people continued thinking as they did, hating as they did, then he'd let himself feel it. For his mother. For himself. For everyone who couldn't feel it for themselves. He'd be proud. And he'd be angry. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Tumblr [@ticktockclockwork](http://ticktockclockwork.tumblr.com)


End file.
